


Another Kind of Training

by jellyjog



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dom/sub, Dominant Qui-Gon Jinn, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, M/M, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Rope Bondage, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-20 18:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyjog/pseuds/jellyjog
Summary: Obi-Wan has been distracted during training lately. Qui-Gon plans to help with that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings. This is BDSM smut, my friends. Enjoy!

“You had that move perfect yesterday,” Qui-Gon sighed, doing his best not to run his hand across his face in irritation. His apprentice looked up towards him, a meek expression on his face. It would do neither of them any good if he got annoyed right now.

“I don’t know what came over me, Master.” Obi-Wan looked down at the floor and Qui-Gon could sense embarrassment through their bond. “It’s more difficult in an actual spar.” There was nervous shifting and Qui-Gon could feel himself giving in. After all, it was difficult to stay upset with his Padawan when he looked so sincere. Perhaps that was the true danger of the young man. He had never quite made it up to an average height, and his frame was rather small despite his level of fitness. Add in the sharp angles of his face and his posh accent and you were left with a picture that was decidedly non-threatening. That appearance had done them well before on missions, and often afforded him the element of surprise when facing a new opponent.

But of course, Obi-Wan didn’t seem to have problems in the field. It was on the sparring mat that he couldn’t seem to keep his wits about him. Perhaps he just functioned well under the rush of adrenaline that field work provided. Of course, he had also been a rather nervous child and it wasn’t out of the question that he could simply be overthinking things in the more friendly environment. Getting inside of his own head.

“Obi-Wan, I’d like you to try this against someone else, so that I can observe you better.” He turned to look around the room, eyes immediately locking onto Mace, who appeared to be practicing his form VI katas. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could see Obi-Wan flushing slightly, embarrassed by the need for extra attention. He paid it no mind, walking over to his friend and asking for his assistance. Obi-Wan had always been slightly intimidated by Master Windu, and if it was a matter of nerves this would likely expose it.

Mace agreed readily, stepping over to the mat he and his Padawan had been using and igniting his saber. With a nod, Obi-Wan stepped forward as well, face slightly paled. And with that, Qui-Gon stepped back, closed his eyes, and delved deep into the training bond that he and his apprentice shared.

Mace fought with the Vaapad, an aggressive form that was enough to knock even a seasoned veteran off their game. There were nerves flowing down the connection as Mace stepped through his opening stances, but there was something else, too. Anticipation. The feeling of sweat and hunger as Obi-Wan blocked the first blow, feeling the power behind it. Respect. Thrill. And as Mace knocked him back with the Force there was something different. Lower. He could feel it give Obi-Wan pause and then Mace was capitalizing. The match moved to the mat and Obi-Wan practically gave up fighting immediately when a saber hilt hit his gut.

Qui-Gon’s own breath almost hitched when Obi-Wan was pinned, saber to his throat as the strange mixture of shame and need coursed through him and suddenly it made sense. Obi-Wan was a young man, after all. Qui-Gon’s own proclivities had never leaned that way, but for someone who  _ did _ feel that need, well… Obi-Wan needed an outlet, and he clearly had none.

“Obi-Wan, collect your things. We’re returning to our quarters.” Qui-Gon opened his eyes, identifying the flush on his apprentice’s face as Master Windu helped him up. It seemed so obvious, now. How many times had he held his Padawan to the mat, believing that flush to be from physical exertion? How had he been so  _ blind?  _ Obi-Wan sent him a confused look.

“Master, you’ve booked this training area for another hour.” Obi-Wan tilted his head, the picture of naïveté. Qui-Gon wondered how long that picture would last.

“Did that sound like a question, Padawan?” The flush deepened and Obi-Wan’s gaze shot down towards the floor, breaking eye contact before he simply shook his head quickly and gathered his outer robe, donning it for the walk back to their rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter has the smut


	2. Chapter 2

“Remove your robe, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon wasted no time upon returning to their quarters and was delighted to feel an oh so slight spark on the other side of the training bond. Had he not been looking for it he never would have found it. Obi-Wan masked it well. “I thought we would continue our lesson here. You seemed nervous. Perhaps Master Windu’s presence had you on edge?” 

“I suppose, Master.” Obi-Wan let his robe fall gracefully from his shoulders as he spoke, despite the uncertainty in his voice. “I have been rather on edge lately. I apologize if it has been reflected in my training.” He turned around and cocked his head as he spoke. “Although I will also admit I’m unsure just how we’re going to continue our training in such a small space.”

“I thought we would try a different exercise. Please remove your tunic and boots as well.” There was a moment of confusion, and Qui-Gon basked in it. Watched as Obi-Wan rallied himself and began to disrobe until he was bare chested and barefoot, folding his clothes neatly and setting them aside. It wasn’t uncommon to train without a tunic on, but it wasn’t something that he had ever demanded. Usually he preferred to leave it up to his student what was most comfortable to train in. He circled behind so he could no longer be seen and allowed himself a smirk.

Everything about the way his Padawan was holding himself was  _ screaming _ submission. His downturned gaze. The inviting curve of his back, and the way his arms were clasped behind him. 

“Master, what—“

“Quiet.” Qui-Gon put force into his word, and this time the heat he felt over their bond was stronger. He reached his arms out and pressed on his Padawan’s shoulders, urging him down onto his knees. “Tell me about what you felt when you were sparring with Master Windu.”

“I felt nervous, Master.” There was a pause as Obi-Wan shifted slightly. “Distracted.”

“What else did you feel, Obi-Wan?” He settled down to kneel behind his Padawan, leaning forward so that he was almost touching him. His Padawan was silent, so he reached his hands forward to touch his bare back, stroking down along his spine. “What did you feel when he pinned you to the mat?”

“Aroused, Master.” Obi-Wan’s answer was hardly louder than a whisper. Shoulders slumped forward in shame and the sight of it was so undeniably  _ alluring _ that Qui-Gon splayed his hand open and pushed, directing Obi-Wan to fall forward onto his hands and knees.

“You’ve allowed it to effect your training. There will be a punishment.” Qui-Gon moved his hand to yank down on the waistband of Obi-Wan’s pants but halted himself, taking a breath as Obi-Wan remained worryingly silent. “Open your end of the training bond.” He allowed his grip to tighten. They hadn’t discussed this beforehand and he needed to know that Obi-Wan was enjoying it. Needed to be able to know when he was approaching too much.

The arousal he felt as the bond opened fully was enough to make him groan.  _ Force _ . Encouraged, he grabbed Obi-Wan’s arms and brought them behind his back, forcing him to place his weight on his shoulders and turn his head to the side. Then he finally grabbed the waistband of the boy’s pants and pulled, leaving him fully exposed with fabric pooling around his knees. 

“You’re quiet.” Qui-Gon brought his hand forward, placing it on the ass displayed before him. Force but this position made it look inviting.

“You told me to be,” Obi-Wan answered immediately, mouth brushing along the carpet as he spoke. The words were tinged with a simplistic sort of satisfaction in the Force. Gratification, even. A naked sort of pleasure derived from doing as he was told. Qui-Gon grinned.

“Obedient, but not enough to save you from punishment.” He lifted his hand and brought it down hard, relishing the sharp sound it made and the snap of surprise in Obi-Wan’s body. He hit again just after, watching the skin go pink. Each hit made the bond throb lightly.

Of all the problems for Obi-Wan to have, this certainly was a pleasant one.

Obi-Wan let out a moan on the fourth hit. A small exhalation that somehow managed to be the filthiest thing Qui-Gon had ever heard, and the arousal was rising so steadily in his mind that it was intoxicating.

But there were other things he wanted to do. 

He reached forward, grabbing Obi-Wan by the hair and pulling him back up to kneel, hands still behind his back and commanding him to  _ stay _ before letting go. The position was no doubt awkward to hold without his support, with Obi-Wan leaning back slightly behind his center of gravity. This would be a fitting punishment, he thought, for someone so needy.

And so obviously, obviously aroused, he thought as he stood. His Padawan’s erection was prominently displayed in this posture. He’d have to do something to help with that on his return.

The confusion he felt along the bond as he walked out the door—leaving his Padawan on the floor—was amusing. The slight panic lacing it wasn’t, but it wasn’t  _ true _ panic. Besides, that feeling of alarm and the unknown aspect of the situation was part of the ‘punishment’ in the end. Regardless, he kept a tab on it as he walked, ready to reach out and comfort through the bond if the feeling became too much.

By the time he arrived in the storerooms and tracked down a good length of rope, the panic had dampened down and left a heady sort of blank feeling in it’s wake. He walked extra slowly on the way back, trying to fight his own anticipation.

Relief echoed through the Force when Qui-Gon returned, and he could tell Obi-Wan was already feeling stiff from the effort of holding himself in place. Before releasing him from his word, however, he quickly cut off a cord of rope and used it to secure his arms in place behind his back. He pulled the rope taught, just enough to be uncomfortable, and shifted Obi-Wan back forwards to a more manageable position.

“You did well. You may speak now, if you like.” He ran his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair, shivering as Obi-Wan pushed into the contact. 

“Thank you, Master.” The way the words rolled off the boy’s tongue was almost reverent. Complete surrender of control.

“Tell me what you want from this, Obi-Wan.” He pressed his hand harder into scalp. Moved his other hand to wrap around Obi-Wan’s chest as he spoke. There was a pause and a shudder as Obi-Wan considered his words.

“I don’t want to decide, Master.” Obi-Wan leaned back and Qui-Gon wished he’d taken his clothes off as he felt the weight against him. He wanted it against his  _ skin _ . “We have the bond. You’ll know if something is wrong.” There was another pause. “I want you to do whatever you want with me.” 

A growl forced it’s way up Qui-Gon’s throat, and he pushed Obi-Wan forward onto his stomach. Quickly, he removed his own robes. Whatever he wanted.  _ Force _ . Surely Obi-Wan knew what it meant to say something like that. The utter trust involved. The idea of it was almost as arousing as the reality, and he knew that  _ he _ was now the one flooding their bond with desperate want.

Because his Padawan was beautiful to a fault. It was a fact he’d always noted with casual indifference but now that it was on display in front of his eyes like this he couldn’t deny the leanness of his frame. The cut of his shoulders. The way the copper braid that marked him as  _ his _ splayed across the ground. Paired with the submission and the  _ trust  _ it was almost unbearable. 

“And if I want to hold you down and take you here on the floor?” Something about that hit home. Arousal in their bond.  _ Humiliation _ . Oh, yes. He could do that. He descended, straddling his apprentice’s thighs and leaning over him.

“Yes, Master.”

“If I want to use your mouth until you choke? Rut into your throat like you’re a lower level hooker?” He bit down on soft flesh, marking Obi-Wan’s shoulder and eliciting a cry.

“Yes, Master!”

“Except a whore would charge credits. You’ll let me fuck you for free. Bend over and offer your ass up for a man twice your age.” He pressed a finger into Obi-Wan’s entrance, feeling it convulse around him from the surprise. “You’ve already let the whole temple pin you to the mats. Might as well make it official by finally making yourself useful and spreading your legs. Krif you’re such a slut.” He added a second finger, listening to Obi-Wan whine out another attempt at  _ Yes, Master _ and feeling a horrible sense of satisfaction as it turned into an unarticulated cry part way through.

Krif. Oil. He needed oil. There was some in his bedroom but he’d waited long enough. The Force was thrumming with shared lust, mixed with pain and exhilaration and thrill and Qui-Gon bit down again near the shoulder blade. His hand reached out and he focused on the Force, finding the oil and calling it to him because the rules about frivolous use were the last thing on his mind at the moment.

Three fingers, this time with oil to help ease the way and Obi-Wan would let out a small whine every time his fingers pulled out. Finally, he grabbed him by the hips, slicking his cock generously and pressing his way in.

Force it was tight. Obi-Wan’s face was rubbing against the carpet, his arms still tied behind him and Qui-Gon grabbed the rope with one hand, using it as leverage as he began to thrust.

Pain shot through their bond, but it was swallowed by a thousand other feelings. Adrenaline. Helplessness.  _ Surrender _ . All mixing with his own feelings and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to last very long. It was so much, mentally. So much stimulation, and the visual show he had. The way Obi-Wan’s cheek rubbed along the floor as he was thrust into, mouth open in a perpetual “o” and eyes squeezed shut from either the pain or one of the million other sensations. The way his ass wrapped around his cock, tight enough that he could just barely see it gripping him when he pulled out. The binding and what looked to be tears being wrung from his eyes as he pressed them shut even tighter.

It all sent him over the edge embarrassingly quickly, hands gripping at Obi-Wan’s hips as he came inside of him and if that wasn’t enough he felt Obi-Wan hit the edge too. Felt the overwhelming pleasure flood their bond until he was drained mentally as well, collapsing forward onto the body underneath him.

His cock was still twitching when he came back to himself. Oversensitive as he pulled out of his Padawan and reached forward to undo the bindings. He felt like he could sleep for a year, but now wasn’t the time. The other side of the bond had gone staticky as Obi-Wan came down from his own high, and he had a responsibility to uphold. 

Obi-Wan dropped his arms forward near his head when they were untied, and the muscles in his upper back and shoulder danced a bit as their range of motion was restored. It probably hurt, but the bond stayed decidedly blank.

“Padawan, are you okay?”

A lazy smile appeared on his Padawan’s face. Dopey, almost. As if the healers had given him the good drugs, and as Qui-Gon picked him up to carry him to his bed where they could both  _ sleep _ , despite the fact that it was midday, he heard his whispered response.

“Yes, Master.”

He shook his head, placing Obi-Wan down to rest and searching out a cup of water and a cloth, placing a kiss on his forehead before leaving the room. This was something they would need to discuss, once they were both clear headed and on equal footing, but for now he had more pressing matters. Aftercare, for one, and then a  _ nap _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always do aftercare, friends! And be sure to communicate and negotiate first--you and your partner don't have a fancy Force training bond to tell you if something's wrong!


End file.
